Week 16

Today is big needle day. I haven't gone yet; Jon and I will be leaving for Birmingham in under 2 hours. I'll fill you in on that fun and games when it's all over.

As for how I'm feeling: Damn, that's a big fat ass! I'm starting to resemble one of those fertility idols. Except I have a face. I'm afraid to tape measure my butt because it has grown exponentially. My belly I can forgive, and bigger boobs is never a problem but holy mackarel you could park a truck under the shadow of my ass.

In other non-news: We're finally watching season 3 of 24. Bauer must have brain damage. He gets conked on the head and tied up more than the Hardy Boys ever did in all 104 of their books put together. I loved those books when I was a kid.

One more note:

Dear Subconcious:

I realize I'm a mass of free-floating fears, but the dreams you are sending me are not subtle and very boring. If I have one more night of dreams of Jon leaving or ignoring me, or of me having a miscarriage, or having trouble at work, I'm simply gonna yawn myself to death! How about a little symbolism to play with? Hell, I'd even take some of those stupid "freefalling and the parachute doesn't work" nightmares. When all is said and done, I'd much rather hunt zombies with Damian Lewis. Poop. At this point it could be Daniel Day-Lewis for all I care. Or even Jerry Lewis. Thank you.

-Sandy